Forgotten legends
by zhorla
Summary: It seems all the legends of old are raising. Power is shifting, the wind is changing, our time has come. It's time for us too, to raise and walk this earth once more and change the fate of this land.
1. Chapter 1

Curiosity killed the cat

"Eragon, do you smell smoke?" Asked Murtagh, filling his lungs with the bracing scents of the mountains, it was tainted with the faint smell, heady and vaguely acidic: smoke. They had been traveling for quite some time, covering miles at a break neck pace. Those frenzied nights leaving Gil'ead, Being chased by the soldiers into the Hadarac desert, and even when they thought that they finally had some safety the encounter with slavers had shook them. When they reached shelter in the Beors they thought they had escaped all traces of human activity. Any sign of intelligent life no matter how small set them on edge.

Exchanging a glance Murtagh and Eragon they urged on their horses towards the faint scent. Taking care not make excess noise. Their steeds trotted delicately through the high underbrush and raised roots their heads brushing the curtains of lichen hanging down from the trees. They came upon a small clearing with a camp inside. The camp was small, made for one or two people. What struck them both was the size of everything. All the tools were out of proportion with the human figure. The shelter was over large in both height and length the spine of the shelter was a dense ash tree with thick leaves and a long ridgepole set the frame of the shelter then it was ribbed with shorter sticks along each edge. This supported the file of debris that was piled on top. Both Eragon and Murtagh recognized it as a common debris shelter used by hunters who packed light.

They found the source of smell. In the pit of a stone hearth were a few smouldering embers sent up strands of smoke that were carried off by the breeze.

"Who do think was here?" asked Eragon

"I don't know. Hunters, the Varden…" Murtagh trailed off, his brows furrowed at the possibilities. Part of him wanted to stay with Eragon but he knew that he had to leave. It wasn't an option to go to the Varden.

"We have to find out who's been camping here, they might have information about a faster way to get to the Varden. Or they might enemies, either way we need to find out," Eragon said while he snooped through the rest of the camp. He inspected the hut, noting the unique build. Unlike most shelters he had seen this one had two ribbed layers instead of one. The inner layer used both live decaying deciduous leaves; the second layer was thinner and made of the water repelling nettles of pine. It seemed that this shelter was made for longer usage; Eragon knew from experience that a well made shelter could last quite a while. Years ago; he and Roran had gone hunting one fall, Eragon had discovered a small herd of roe deer. The excursion took longer than expected and they were forced to make camp for fear being caught out in the frigid autumn night. It was then that Eragon learned how to make a proper shelter, using only what he could find in the surrounding area. About two years later he stumbled upon the same place that He and Roran had camped at long ago. The frame work had deteriorated some and the coverage had almost completely rotted away. To his surprise he found the covered lean-to still stood. A badge had made it's sett inside the hut and Eragon thought to leave her in peace.

On hands and knees he crawled into the shelter to take a better look. It was tall enough that he didn't have to squirm on his belly.

"Eragon what are you doing?" Murtagh said exasperatedly, sometimes Eragon could be such a child, poking his nose where it didn't belong. "Get out of there, you don't you might be home," he added.

"Don't you know curiosity killed the cat?" replied Eragon

"Exactly"

"Well, satisfaction brought it back… Look at these," He grunted as he crawled back out; holding two objects.

The first of the objects was substantially smaller then the second. It appeared to be a figurine of a woman. Her arms were raised so that each hand cupped some invisible thing. The figure had no discernible features but had generous curves. In the swollen stomach of the figure was a carved insignia. The other was an arrow fletched with brown and white falcon feathers; the arrow was as long and thick as a javelin.

Eragon showed the two strange objects to Murtagh; examining the doll closely. "Who do think owns these?" He asked tracing the lines of the carving.

"I wonder…" Murtagh trailed off, picking up the arrow carefully and scrutinizing it. Looking the shaft up and down and checking the fletching.

A soft rustling came from the other side of the camp. It was the horses that noticed it first; their ears pricked forward, they snorted nervously and shuffled their hooves. A shadowy figure emerged half hidden by the branches. They could only see part of the creature, but what they could see shocked them.

Standing easily at nine feet, and most likely more, the being resembled an oversized human though oddly proportioned. The limbs were overlong, the shoulders wider and the torso rather short. But Eragon eyes were focused on the knife poised in its hand.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught a flash of movement. Murtagh discreetly stringing a bow. The giants eyes flicked over to Murtagh and his, shifting its position so that if it decided to attack would pierce the flesh joining Murtagh's neck to his shoulder.

It seemed as though they stood there for eons. The muscles in Eragons neck were tensed and straining; he felt a bead of sweat roll down his brow, over his temple and splash down on to the collar of his shirt. Eragon eased his hunting knife out of its sheath, trying to make as little motion as possible; shifting his position next to Murtagh, the giant noticed this too.

Its eyes widened in fear; though it was twice the size of either of them, with two against one they weren't in its favour.

Its face set, the giant edged forward cautiously. Moving towards him, poised in the attack position. Eragon's mind flew to Saphira, stretching over the distance to join with hers. He called to her with his mind, sending her an image of his location. Sensing his urgency; Saphira strengthened the tie that bound them.

"_Eragon? What's wrong? Your mind is clouded, I cannot reach you properly" _concern sounded strongly in mind, she reached out to touch more with him but found that the tendrils of his mind slipped away.

"_Saphira! You need to come right away, I can't talk."_

"_Of course." _Eragon saw fly off in their direction from behind his eyes. He looked back on the scene before him, the giant stood still and unmovable as ice. Murtagh stood in his fighting stance, his breathing ragged. Slowly Murtagh put his bow down, moving slowly and deliberately so that the creature saw what he was doing. To his amazement the giant did the same put its knife down gently on the forest floor. When straightened up it looked both Eragon and Murtagh in the eyes; first one then the other. Its eyes shone softly in the filtered light of the canopy, the loss of the fear glaze of its eyes revealed a human intelligence. Some of the tenseness evaporated from its body though it still remained apprehensive. This by extension calmed the two down.

Murtagh had realised that they must have stumbled into his camp and it was reacting like any other person would do. He was surprised that they hadn't been attacked for trespassing; like he would've done. He picked the first weapon that came to mind when he first saw it, at first thinking it was bear up on its hind legs, in retrospect a bow wouldn't be the most effective tool to use at such close range it'd be nearly useless.

For a moment they stood cross from each other. Murtagh felt something close to awe, the way you would felt when the Hadarac desert spread out before you, or the mountains stretching into the sky, looking over the side of a river boat to see great sturgeon swimming below, dragon soaring through clouds. Some sort of mix between awe and fear and wonder. He looked closely at the creature and felt it doing the same. He was struck by the thought that it was analysing him just as closely. For the first time he looked closely at its face; its eyes like were large and unusually light, the like glacial ice, the mouth small and full, the brows and jaw seemed to be more pronounced . The features had certain sharpness to them, a different quality to them that he couldn't quite discern. He also discovered something that would explain the passiveness almost fearful nature of the attack. The giant was _female_, judging by the lineless face she was young.

The giantess's face softened as she seemed to realize that they meant no more harm to her then she did to them. She approached them slowly keeping her hands in front of her palms splayed. To show that she meant no harm and also to protect herself if they decided to attack. She tried to recall all she knew about humans, which wasn't much, out of all the creatures' humans were the most mysterious to her. She knew they didn't speak the same language and she could speak a few words of it. The males and females were total opposites of each other; the males could be very aggressive, now one new anything about the females because no one had ever seen one. She knew that like with any creature she had to be very cautious. Calling up her limited knowledge of English she tried for the first time to break the silence.

"Who… are you?" The giantess spoke slowly trying to compensate for the thick accent. The words sounded odd to her ears, flowing in a fashion that didn't suit her speech patterns. She saw shock on the human's faces and wondered if she had said what she thought she had said. They smaller, fairer human with eyes like molten syrup turned to stare at her full in the face, he had been looking up into the sky trying peer over the mountains and through layers of cloud.

"What?"

There was some great thudding noise above their heads. Saphira skirted a mountain, flying just above the tree tops to scan for Murtagh and Eragon; she spotted the horses, looking for the glint of metal off their saddles and the human tools. The clearing was just big enough for her to squeeze in. Expertly, she furled her wings and angled the tips just so, landing in the centre of the camp between the humans and giantess. Saphira swept her tail out of the way neatly tucking it under her foot. She looked back at Eragon and Murtagh-who had to press themselves against the ferns to avoid her crushing them- and grinned wolfishly, her fangs glinting in the half light.

"_What is it?" _

"_Look for yourself" _he thought, gesturing at the giantess.

Her eyes flew open, as if trying to see every part of the gigantic creature at once. She felt herself go stiff, only moving her eyes to watch the light shimmer and shift on the iridescent scales, hypnotizing. The lethal spikes along her spike like crystalline daggers. The dragon swung her head around to eye the giant with one of her great orbs. There was a bright and harsh intelligence in depths of that eye. The iris was the colour of the hidden lagoons deep within the mountain chasms.

She dropped to the ground, kneeling with her head bent, nearly brushing the forest floor, she had crossed her forearms over chest. There was a moment of confused quite, no one was sure how to continue; to Eragon it was as if she had passed out from fear in an odd position. He felt guilty for calling Saphira now. Terrifying a strange creature probably wasn't the best thing to do- creature; she was hardly a creature, a legend more like, a forgotten legend; like Saphira; it seemed that all the myths of old were rising again.

Saphira bent closer to the giant, drawing in her scent, aside from her own essence and that of the forest that clung to her there was the distinct odour of fear, both fresh and stale. She felt tiny vibrations of the girl's shivering. Deftly; Saphira let a tendril of her conscience prod at the girl's. It had a different feel to it than that of a human, it was older then the humans, primeval. One might describe it as an ancient mere; with depths unknown it had the hush of a forest just before dawn or twilight. Like an elf's there was music the beat strong and continuous. Saphira preferred Eragon's mind, which brought images of an endless plain, mountain a mere smudge in the distance, with him she could almost feel the sun heating her scales and wind tug at her wings. This time it was just an image, a pale echo.

The giant felt something inside her. A tugging somewhere in here mind; being stretched and blended like a streak of paint. Coming from the back of her mind she heard a voice that was not her own. It reminded the girl giant of the shriek of the fanghur echoing through a valley.

"_Who are you?"_ the giant flew back out of her bow crawling backwards in a frantic attempt to get to safety away from the voice sounding in her mind. She looked around wildly staring wide eyed at the creature in towering over her, her trembling increased turning bones to jelly.

"Gah!" She yelped, babbling in her native tongue. Eragon and Murtagh looked on from behind Saphira with a mixture of concern and amusement Murtagh more amusement then concern. Eragon tapped Saphira on one of the tail spines; she didn't both moving only deepening the connection of their minds.

"_Could you please not terrify her anymore? I think she's had enough for one day."_

"_Fine."_

Saphira sat back on her haunches, which seemed a much more passive position, removing her snout from her personal space. Again she made contact, more gently this time. The giantess still looked at her in shock but remained still.

"_Calm, we mean you no harm. I'm sorry to have startled you. I am Saphira, who are you?"_

It took a moment for the giantess to articulate her thoughts. Trying to Calming down enough to answer the dragon.

"_I am Enya." _She thought, she seem timid and week even to her own mind. Saphira then in turn spoke to Eragon who spoke to Murtagh. Murtagh still refused to let anyone breach the walls of his mind.

"_Eragon, you can relax. I believe Enya was only startled by our presence. Tell Murtagh to put that stick-thrower away and come sit."_

"_Enya, that's her name? I can't believe that were in midst of giant. A legend! Though, I thought they would be larger." _

"_Legend? And what Am I? Your common rock lizard?" _She snorted a fine stream of smoke pouring out her nostrils.

Eragon Carefully stepped over her tail, avoiding tripping over her spikes. Murtagh went around the other way skirting her shelter. Sitting down by the dead fire they sat across from each other for a long moment. Enya examined each of their faces noting their similarities and differences, taking in their strange faces, their features weren't completely alien. They had all the pieces in the same general places. But the aberrant position and proportion made her take a second glace to keep searching for differences. Likewise they found themselves staring unashamedly at her. Enya cocked her head and uttered something in her own tongue. Blushing; her she tried again in English, hoping that she didn't mangle the words too badly.

"Who are ... you?" Enya said, looking from one face to the other.

"I'm Eragon Garrowson," said the boy with maple eyes. The younger of the two it seemed.

"And I am Murtagh," The young man with pale skin said. His dark eyes flashed whenever spoke. There was more to him that was unfixed, that roiled and shifted as the dark waters of the sea. Unlike the other who was flighty but connected to something in his mind, the only thing that kept Murtagh attached was his will of mind.

"Eragon Garrowson, Murtagh, Saphira," She said, rolling each name in her mouth before spitting it out. Then she shifted her position so that she knelt close to them. She said some phrase in her language. Eragon caught both his and her name but else wise he had no idea what she said. Then still kneeling she bowed; crossing one arm of her chest. Enya took his fore arm in hand clapped her other hand over that one in some sort of hand shake, she touched her forehead to his for a moment and looked him in the eyes.

"Eragon, An kersa'jok trabinsil shoun ay dzieko ay pen Naira. An Enya ay pen shrtraden. Atra orya yawé quilza vell, Un pen malta ceolh hodari." She said in her low voice, speaking with reverence as if the words should be handled carefully. She spoke similarly to Murtagh, bowing and greeting him much the same. Murtagh held himself quite stiffly during this. Eragon assumed this reluctance was mostly apprehension of the strange greeting. He surprised Eragon by bowing in the same manner.

Then she set to work, moving fluently and silently building a fire. She set a tripod with a tightly woven green wood basket over the fire, pouring water from her water skin into basket and taking leaves from another pouch and sprinkling them on the water. She sat crossed legged leaning against a tree looking at each one of them in turn, her eyes lingered on Saphira. There was a silence bordering on uncomfortable. Eragon was bursting with questions for the giantess.

"Enya, how long have you lived in the mountains?" She frowned at him for moment. Then brightened as she struggled to answer his question.

"The mountains are my home…I live my life here." She seemed quite pleased with her mastery of the language smiling to herself and nodding.

"And your people, the giants, how long have they lived here?" He prodded, Murtagh felt as though he was driving to get at something without asking directly. Enya however was having more trouble, As far as she knew the Shrtraden had lived in the mountains for most of time. The giants lived in scattered pockets all over the continent, hidden for so long that they had faded into memories but immortalized as legends.

"Shrtraden? We live here for all time. Always…long time."

"Your people have always lived here. You must everything about the Boers. There's a place deep in the mountains, the Varden, do you know it?" Ah yes, that made sense; Eragon needs all the help he can get and who better then someone who has lived her entire life here.

"Varden" She rolled the word around in her mouth, brows furrowed in concentration. "Var…den" she muttered to herself in her own language. Scrawling in the dirt some sort of diagram. Grinned brightly and nodded vigorously. "Yeah, ruhnok knurl synowlas, Hollow Mountain. Is varden your home? You're lost?"

"No, not lost. But we need to get there as fast as possible. Otherwise Arya will die; they have the cure for her. Will you help us?"

She nodded slowly, thinking hard. She had to help; she wasn't quite why she _had _to help them. Besides it being the ethical thing to do, she felt drawn to them. The wondrous creature that was Saphira and the two strange humans. Still the pull towards the familiar was undeniable. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her. To finally know of the world beyond the mountains was filling her mind with intoxicating images.

"Yes, I will help you."

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_Dein (end)_

**_A/n: heloo, hope you all enjoyed that, I've got to say This was a hard chapter to write, mostly 'cuz translating the human language into giant. I am looking for a beta so just message me if your interested. also since i'm kind of coming up with my own culture i'm going to have little tidbits of info on giants in the a/n. Also i need more words for my giant language so just click the green button and jot down some nonsense ( not anything really stupid please). The translations just below._**

Eragon I greet you in friendship as a child of the Mother. I am Enya of the great wolf clan. Let our friendship grow close and the truth stay strong.

dwarf's hollow mountain


	2. Chapter 2

_disclimer: Is this really nessesary?_

_In the night garden_

The night air was still. Only the slightest breeze played through the trees. The chatter of nocturnal animals sifted through the woods. Murtagh watched the liana sway gently through the twilight air. Thoughts nagged at the back of his, as they often did. Gnawing on his peace of mind. He could not sleep, in deep agitation he kicked off his blankets in a flurry. He creeped atop the soft loam, picking his way around dark-blotted obstacles till he hovered next to Saphira's slumbering form. Murtagh tapped delicately on one of her scales. She shifted slowly; swinging her head to gaze at him with slit eyes.

"I need to talk to Eragon," he whispered careful to make as little noise as possible.

She blinked in response. She lifted up her wings enough to reveal Eragon to his view. The younger man shivered at the cool night air. Eragon pulled the blankets up around his chin the same moment Murtagh shook him awake. Eragon groaned so loudly that Murtagh clapped a hand to his face. They wouldn't want to wake their gracious new friend. Murtagh wondered if they could trust this new friend of theirs.

Eragon grunted loudly trying to pull off Murtagh's iron grip. This only made him more irritable. Murtagh leaned closely to Eragon's face to whisper in his ear.

"Be quiet! I need to talk to you. Come on, but quietly!" His voice was low, rough from straining vocal cords and a sand scrubbed throat. He didn't wait for Eragon's reaction. Instead he hauled up his dead wait. Half-dragging the stumbling creature. Ragging him off into the bush.

He continued until he felt they were a safe distance from the camp. Before he let up on his grip on Eragon. When he did Eragon stumbled back into a tree huffing and rubbing the part of his arm that Murtagh had firmly attached to.

"What! " Eragon demanded, looking quite irritable himself. He was going to be Half- dead in the morning if he didn't get a good night sleep. Something he'd been looking forward to since Gil'ead.

"We have to talk,"

"Fine, about what? And why so late?"

"Do you think we can trust her?"

The abruptness of his question caught him off guard .Eragon had thought about it as well but was too tired to give it more than a passing thought. "We can trust her, I think. "He sighed wearily, "even if we can't, we still need her to show us the way to the Varden. And time is running short for Arya. I don't think it's a matter of trust, she's necessary."

Murtagh nodded, letting the knot of worry loosen around his chest. It was what he wanted to hear for the most part. Perhaps he was just being irrational. He couldn't let go of the distrustful attitude that made him think twice. Even with Eragon he felt that he had to watch his back. Which he knew for a fact that was the height of foolishness. If Eragon was one thing it was loyal, Murtagh wasn't even sure if Eragon was capable of betraying someone. That was one thing that made things traveling with him easy. His trusting nature balanced out Murtagh's suspicion. They suited each other well; but unfortunately Murtagh was far too tired to think beyond the fact that now they wouldn't have to sneak off in the middle of the night. They trudged their way through the thick briar back the camp. Eragon crawled back under Saphira's wing, curling up. Murtagh was asleep before his head hit his pillow. Forming the foetal position around his bundle of blankets. He plunged back into sleeps embrace.

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**_An: Not much to say here, very short chapter. this is a habit of mine, i'll write a good first chapter and then a short anti-climatic seond. I did tell you that in my an's i'd give a little blub on Giant culture, so here it goes._**

**_First of all if I make a lot of gramatical errors in dialog this is mostly cuz of her accent. She has a very hard time pronouncing the th sound so it'll either come out as Da=the or ta. their are several different dialects f the giants as you'll discover. Giant speak uses some words of both the dwarvish and ancient language, that's all i can think of. she also has a hard time with suffixes._**

**_Review!_**


	3. Chapter 3

Happy trails

The morning dawned gloriously, the sun bathing the world in a wash of gold and sending the clouds on fire. Trees were lit up with slivery dew droplets handing from the tips of nettles, resting atop blankets of moss. The blue slate mountains were highlighted wonderfully by the sun setting off contrasting shadows of deepest blue. The lower clouds wreathed around the peaks, illuminated in banks of silver and gold. The fine mist that hung between mountains formed an iridescent rainbow draping like a curtain. The air smelled of sweetest pine and cedar of moist loam and frosted blue slate swept down from and scrubbed clean by the frigid alpine crags. The cool air was crystalline amplifying each hue and contrast.

Enya moved carefully, setting each foot down on the carpet of nettles. Eragon and Murtagh slept like the dead, Eragon was tucked under Saphira's wing, finding this a quite comfortable place to sleep when his legs didn't feel like they were being skinned alive in the freezing snow. Murtagh had sprawled out underneath a tree, his mouth agape, limbs flung every which way. He hadn't even bothered to unroll his blankets properly, instead using the bundle as a pillow. Abruptly; Murtagh grunted turning over, nearly smashing his head into the tree. Enya creeped forward. Peering over the hump of his shoulder, she took in his features carefully. When she first met him she was taken in by the unique quality of his face. Now she looked at him in a more objective light. His pale complexion contrasted starkly with the deep shadows under his eyes, even asleep looked troubled as though life wouldn't let him walk in the land of grey. His long straight nose was slightly crooked from being broken. His eyes hallowed were framed by short, thick, bristly eyelashes. His mouth, when awake was drawn; had now relaxed, leaving it full and pale. There were similarities between Eragon and Murtagh were undeniable, the same jaw line and mouth, similar noses. Eragon was impish with finer features whereas Murtagh was wilful and fierce. She wondered if they were related or if these were common features. Still they looked young and childish to Enya, almost feminine with their light faces and weak chins.

Arya fascinated Enya to no end. Her face was carved from the finest sandstone by the most skilled artist. High cheek bones etched under her skin and a smooth brow was a far cry from her own looks. She could only imagine what her eyes looked like, framed in lashes thick enough to paint with, with a wide mouth almost too full. The chin came to a point, feline in her looks; Enya could imagine her with wide amber eyes and slit pupils. Even in ragged leather clothes lithe and graceful in stillness. With narrow shoulders and long limbs her wide hips felt mismatched. There was a still, ever watchful beauty to her rest the made Enya wary to stare for too long as if Arya would wake and catch her at any moment.

She built a small fire to ward away the morning chill, using bone dry tinder and winter grasses. Rendering the little blaze smokeless. She started making breakfast. Using her largest wove basket of half-dried grass and taking out the other small pot she had used earlier for tea. She poured water from her skin for stew, dropping in the rhizome of cattails and a few handfuls of wild rice, adding in a few water chestnuts for good measure. She tossed hunks of porcupine meat, leaving the fat on the flesh. Sprinkling cranberries to sweeten it, popping few in her mouth as she went.

There was a muffled moan; Eragon Crawled out from Saphira looking groggy and dishevelled. Pulling himself up he stumbled over to the fire. Rumple-haired and bleary-eyed he collapsed at the edge of the fire, thrusting his hands at the madcap flames, nearly brushing the embers. He smiled wearily up at Enya; rubbing the sleep out of eyes.

"Good morning Enya, how are you?" He asked, peering into the pot with some interest. Not nearly as wary or rapt as he was yesterday. Though this could be due to the fact he was still half asleep.

"Hello Eragon… I good. Sleep good?" She stumbled over the words.

"Yes, it's warm under Saphira's wing. What is this?" he said prodding at the cooking basket.

She thought for a moment, slogging through her memory for any words to describe food, she drew a blank from her limited vocabulary. "Is harchela wiln… morning food?"

"You mean breakfast," he said, digging his bowl out of his pack, flinging objects onto the ground as he searched through the mass.

"What that?" She asked about the strange sounding word as she spooned the stew into her own bowl before filling Eragon's. She looked expectantly at Eragon waiting for her first English lesson.

"Breakfast is what we call our first breakfast of the day it's the same as your har-harch."

"Harchela is morning, wiln is the food. Stew, you call it.," taking the first bite to test for taste, the wild rice hadn't cooked fully but Enya preferred it that way. The meat was juicy and tender from the fat and sweet from the cranberries the rice dyed pink.

"Hmm, this is good Enya. So Harchela wiln means morning stew… could you teach me some of your language?" He asked; Enya stifled a smile at Eragon's unusual accent. She wondered if she sounded as strange to him.

"Ta, we teach each other?" She very much liked the idea of learning more of his language, it appealed to her in the same way that helping them find the Varden. The strange pull that was leading her down a shadowed and twisted path.

"Ta?"

"Ta means yes. That you first lesson," She said. Her eyes wondered over to where Murtagh lay, snoring quite audibly, curled up in his blankets. He looked quite peaceful, almost childlike although a child that seen too much of the world. The fire had burned low and the stew was getting cold. Still the sun rode higher, illuminating the forest with amber rays.

"We should… wake him, the stew is… go cold and sun high comes," she nodded at the sleeping form of Murtagh. She noticed Eragon's lupine grin and regretted mentioning it at all.

"Right you are; he's not much morning person," Leaping to his feet and dashing over Murtagh's side with quite feet padding over the soft nettles. Grinning like devilishly he tapped Murtagh's side all this did was cuase Murtagh to turn over and wave vaguely as if swatting a fly. What he tried next was a tad more extreme; kicking him swiftly in the flank howling like a dervish. "FIRE!"

Murtagh sprung to feet, Head swinging wildly as looked for the source of the disturbance. A thunderous expression over came him as he sighted on Eragon leaning on a tree for support, beaming at Murtagh mischievously.

"Eragon, I swear by the gods that if you ever do that again I'll disembowel you and use your intestines as sausage casing," He growled through gritted teeth. He hobbled over to Enya, warming his hands by the fire. Enya was at first bewildered by the outburst. Birds fled their nests for the sky in a flurry of wings. She caught the gist of Murtagh speech but missed the actual meaning. She thought he'd said that he was going to turn Eragon into a sausage for the gods. It took her awhile to realise that they were joking once she got the joke she had a hard time fighting back a smile. Feeling guilty for laughing at his pain.

"You are hurt?"

"No I'm fine; startled not hurt," Yawning and rubbing his side a thought seemed to occur him. In his time Murtagh had heard many stories. Whether wiling away long winter nights or trying to outdo one another at the local tavern. Tales of the otherworldly always people's attention. When people told of giants, they painted a picture of huge, guttural, club wielding monsters. The description varied when stories included giantesses such as Sigyn. This thread of thought branched off in to pondering other sort of fables noticing themes that he hadn't picked up before. How good always triumphed over evil And how seldom people would believe his story if he told it to the average person…Murtagh's thought process was cut off by their talking. "How do you pronounce that again?" Eragon asked; his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he slurred the word Enya was trying to teach him.

"Shr-tra-den. Shr like growl. Try again," she said patiently

"Shrytraden? No, shrrr…Shrtraden, was that right?"

"Close enough," she laughed, "now, you teach me some?" Enya asked she really wanted to know how to speak to them and this enthusiasm encouraged her to pick up on sounds and speech patterns that were similar to her language. The language Enya spoke was essentially the language spoken by all giants. But each tribe had a different dialect; depending on where you were they could almost seem to be two different languages. This could lead to trouble when people of tribes from great distances mingled. The way they used certain words and how they were pronounced could have a completely altered meaning. People were usually very accepting of these false friends once it was understood what a person meant to say and liked to listen to the accents and stories they told. As far as Enya was concerned it was the same with Eragon and Murtagh. They spoke curiously with surprisingly deep voices for their small stature. And although she couldn't understand some of they said she became more interested in them if only for the fact that they were strange.

Murtagh having finished his meal stood and observed the camp and surrounding scenery. He felt the sharp mountain air cleaning out the dust in lungs form the desert. Thoughts nagged at the back of mind. He'd get Eragon to the Varden like he promised and then leave for freedom. He wouldn't be able to stay in the Beors and he wouldn't go back to the empire. He'd always wanted to explore the unknown countries that lie beyond and find a place that he could be comfortable and accepted. However a small piece of him longed for the security of Alagaësia. "We should leave soon, the sun's getting high and we can make good time today."

"Thought we could stay a little longer today, we've come so far now and I was going to teach Enya," Eragon whined, Enya's appearance had taken his mind off their journey and he was none too pleased to be jerked back to reality. Murtagh's expression was stubborn and it foolhardy to argue him. He got up anyway and started rolling up his blankets.

She looked on with some amusement. Eragon and Murtagh acted very much like brothers, she understood only a few words of their conversation but their body language and reactions made it clear enough. It made her wonder if they really were related they seemed enough alike that it was possible. She knew enough that humans shared surnames with their kin like giants although there were major differences in the way they were applied. Why did Eragon have Garrowson and Murtagh did not? Enya thought. It might have something to do with Saphira; Eragon was much closer to her then Murtagh. A real friend ship that came from intelligent thought between them. Garrowson must be the title of a dragon friend. That it's Eragon must be a friend of the dragon and they are going to the Varden Because of it. That did not however explain the unconscious woman that rode under Saphira on a litter. She seemed of great importance.

She put all her mind at ease for the moment focusing on putting away the leftovers. They moved quickly and efficiently, with the ease of people who were accustomed to traveling. They wore strange clothes; Enya thought. Thin linen or worn leather was worn loosely under long undecorated tunics of faded colours. It looked like someone put some care into Murtagh's clothes but any workmanship had since been destroyed. Eragon's wear had never been of high quality but they were reduced to rags. It made her wonder how far they had traveled and why they come here. Could they be outcasts banished by their people? They seemed like good men other than being chary and rough.

Her mother often told Enya that she was too trusting; this might be a time to heed her advice. The dragon and the sleeping and beautiful woman led to questions to asked, questions that they had carefully avoided. She had politely dismissed these avoidances but she could no longer deny the danger. She couldn't blindly lead them through her people's territory. Thinking of the tales journeyers told of slavers and soldiers that slaughtered their own for no visible reason. She was chilled at the thought.

Eragon had been watching Enya out of the corner of his eye for awhile as he packed. Checking both Saphira's and the horse's saddles. She'd stopped moving halfway through hauling all her things out of the debris shelter. Something about her made him trust her. Because she was …harmless? No, that wasn't it; she was more than capable of defending herself. Perhaps it was that she trusted them so easily. If anything she seemed like a curious child; naive and unassuming. He'd been like that too; when he first left the farm all he had on his mind was avenging Garrow's death and the destruction of the farm. He hadn't known what that would entail. He hadn't thought it out the grief of losing his home and family and mere idea of revenge was enough to send on this journey, blundering off with an old man and an infant dragon. He'd grown since then in both mind and body, grown a little more suspicious, world weary. Not much though, as Murtagh pointed out. On several occasions it was pointed out to that he was possibly the most juvenile person and was in desperate need of growing up.

They finished packing. Loading the horses up with their gear. Enya wondered at the strange creatures. She never saw animals so calm around people. And to let them ride on their backs! Northern horses must be quite tame to allow this. I wonder what'd be like to ride on a horse. She thought. I'd look fairly strange that's for sure, I don't think I've seen any horse big enough to ride.

Murtagh had been scrutinizing Enya's behaviour carefully still not trusting fully. She'd taken a small bowl full out of the stew out and placed in the crotch of a tree mumbling a few words in her language. She kept the small figure in particular reverence, tucking it carefully into her shirt. She seemed …mournful as if reluctant to leave. She may have packed quickly but her heart was not in it.

"Enya is something wrong?"

"Huh? Oh…no, nothing is wrong Murtagh," she looked startled, quickly looking away to hide any emotions.

"You sure?"

"Mmm, Murtagh, I do no' know, 'dere are 'tings I must ask before we go. Why are you here? Do you leave your people on travel or…are you outcast? I have many question for you. You are strange to me, can I trust you?" she asked in a hush looking down at him quite earnestly. She must know if these strange men were to be trusted. However oddly compelling they were with their ink well eyes and opalescent dragons would be worth the risk of leaving her people.

Murtagh heaved a sigh. She had right to know and so did Eragon. The time for truth had come to dispel secrets and to keeping form building up.

"Eragon and I are…unable to stay in Alagaësia. It's not safe for us; we're both being hunted by the king and the Empire. Were not…the most of refined of company but we mean you no harm. However we can't guarantee your safety from others we might meet," he looked back at her blankly. Take it or leave it, she'd have to decide now, it was best if she knew the facts.

"I want you to trust us, whether you do or not is up to you."

She nodded resolutely, she had made up her mind late last night, and she had no urge to turn back now.

**_AN: This chap actually took me not very long to write, i'm just a procrastinator, not a lot of action in this is there? It's more of a set up chapter looking their characters and building of their relationships so sorry if that's not your thing I'll try to add bit of action into the story. If you've been wondering why Enya stuck some found in a tree, it's a bit of a religon thing giving back to the earth and all that, it's also a bit of note to anyone who comes looking for her that she's safe, it shows that she had enough time and resources. I guess that's not really good enough maybe they'll meet up with a seach party later._**

**_On a semi related note is anyone tired of Giants being portrayed as evil/ugly/smelly/stupid or barely mentioned at all? I find this really annoying, Someone should start a giant fangroup, Cool idea or what? don't forget to review! DFTBA!_**


	4. Chapter 4

Culture clash

Enya stared at the creatures loaded up with gear. One a pale dove's grey, the other roan; both looking at her quite plainly while their riders checked their tack and saddles. She wondered at the beast's patience and bravery. She had never seen animals let alone horses-which were reclusive by nature-, allow people to come so close to them to _touch _them. Enya's eyes nearly fell out of her sockets when she saw two strange little men riding on the backs of horses. She had heard stories of humans riding on the backs of horses for travel, using lupine creatures called dogs for hunting but she hadn't thought much of it. Their stories were fun to listen to but no one really consider it true, just a silly tale for children to get worked up about.

"Why do 'dey stay?" She asked, gesturing at the nickering animals.

"The horses? They're trained from birth. We've tamed them for so long that they don't fear us anymore, just like other animals. Don't giants use animals for work?" they left clearing, she led them through dense wood, following a trail only she could see.

She stared at them blankly. She didn't understand the vast majority of what he said. Had he just asked her if the bucket was tame enough like the others for carrying a horse?

"Eh? I don't know what you said."

Eragon repeated himself more slowly enunciating each word carefully. "The horses, they do what we want them too, because we train them too. Don't Giants do the same?"

Enya shook her head no. She had only heard of such tales around the fire at late night meals-with plenty of berry wine to lubricate the vocal cords. One thing still bothered her, a word that stuck out like a tree in the prairie. "Eragon, what is a Gee-ant?"

Murtagh and Eragon exchanged glances before looking back at the giantess who was nearly walking backwards to get a better look at them. She stared at them with unassuming curiosity looking back and forth between them. "Giant is our word for you," She ogled him more confusedly

"I'm Enya, no Gee-ant," She stated quite firmly.

"What Eragon means to say is that Giant is the word we use for your people, since we don't the proper word that use for yourself It's also a word for something or someone very large so that's why we call you that. You're a giant." Enya Suddenly grasped what they were telling her. Piecing together the bits of their language she understood, the end result made her giggle. The two stared at her- it was such an odd sound to come out of a person of her stature.

"I'm not Gee-ant; I'm small, For Naidzeilin, e-ei-ven for a nena." She looked irked at this statement, but that could've been because she failed to construct and pronounce proper sentences.

"So, Naidzeilin is the proper word for a giant?" asked Eragon, "and what is a nena?"

"Ta, Naidzeilin is Gee-ant. An Enya, Naidzeilin ay pen Shrtraden, An o nena, ceolhar epn sinacro quilza

"What was all that?" He asked for a translation. Enya slowed her thoughts so that she could properly shift her thinking into the strange language of humans.

"I'm Enya…Gee-ant of Shrtraden; I'm a nena, not grown-up. I 'ink is what I say?" She shrugged in her odd fashion, moving one shoulder and tilting her head to the opposite side. She continued leading them through the indecipherable trails carved through the ground. Her head barely brushed the hanging liana as she kept walking; Eragon and Murtagh had to concentrate on making sure their mounts didn't trip on roots.

"You still haven't answered my question, what's a nena?"Eragon demanded. He was getting irritated at her apparent evasion. She frowned at the boy; she wasn't quite sure how to answer his question. She of course knew what a nena was; it was a fairly simple and direct translation the problem was is that she didn't know what the word for it in English. She was reduced to gesturing.

"I'm nena, you tako.' She said, pointing first to herself and then to Eragon. He shrugged at her still confused.

"What's a tako?"

"Gah, tako… is man, nena is …like man. Arya is… like man…not quite. Naira's chosen we say," she struggled for a while after that, not quite able to convey her meaning. Finally Saphira stepped in to save Enya from tearing her hair out. The language barrier was beginning to take its toll.

"_I believe what she's trying to tell you, that she is female. For nena in her peoples tongue means a young woman- a girl; whereas tako means a young man-a boy."_

"_Oh."_

Murtagh snickered when Eragon finally figured it out. He'd long since realized what Enya was getting at, but kept his mouth shut for his own enjoyment. He found it quite amusing to see the giantess stumble over her words in an attempt to make Eragon understand; still he was human enough to feel guilty for laughing, though it was mostly at Eragon's ineptitude.

They walked on; the trails were getting wider a more defined as they traveled deeper into the mountains. Murtagh stayed constantly alert, in the way someone unfamiliar with the territory. He scanned the area for any movement, he felt deep unease; not that this was not unusual for him. He often felt discontented or weary. Lately he had been feeling particularly weary, however his discontentedness had decreased since meeting Eragon. The relief he found from being out of the Empire's was odd. He lived his whole life under the Empire's watchful glare, constantly checking over his shoulder for servants of the king. He felt relived of that anxiety, but now he had other problems to worry about. Like how he would get Eragon to the Varden safely without being captured by them and what he'd do after he was free. The independence was vast; it dropped away into the unknown leaving him a speck in its expanse; Drifting without anything to anchor him.

There was a sharp cracking noise off to the right. The horses stopped mid-step, their nostrils flared and their ears pricked forward. Both Eragon and Murtagh reached for their swords, the red blade rested in Eragon's palm, Enya looked at the strange with one eye on the area where the noise came from. She knocked an arrow into her bow, keeping it low at her side. She caught a flash of movement between the branches; lower then she expected. A human? No it was too high up for a human and to low for giant, a giant child perhaps? It was nearly her height so that was the most plausible until a small black Arrow came shooting from the leaves. She dropped to the ground to avoid the missile.

A large creature charged forward before she could get up. She stumbled out of its way before it could attack; Eragon caught it with a glancing blow from his sword. Rusty blood oozed from the scrape, contrasting greatly with its grey skin.

The Urgal stopped to face Eragon, from what Enya could tell it was not angry but cautious and calculating. He raised his hand and bared his throat, "You are the dragon rider, and you will come with me to serve my master." Enya stared after the strange creature before her. It was even stranger looking then Eragon of Murtagh on their horses. He had the grey skin of a dead man, of muddy-river fish. It was built like a boulder, with limbs as thick as trees. It's most attractive feature was the two curving horns protruding from his forehead and sweeping back elegantly. Still she was much afraid of the thing, He was much more intimidating then the two young human males were. She only understood a little of what he said, his accent that the words came out mutilated. However, Eragon and Murtagh seemed two understand perfectly what he had said; and whatever it was, it wasn't good. Murtagh yanked his sword out of the sheath, swinging out of his saddle and into his fighting stance. The Urgal just stood there; Enya couldn't see the expression on his face he pulled out his sword to match Murtagh. Eragon then did the strangest thing; he put sword back in its place and took off his gloves like he was planning to fight it with his bare hands.

They weren't nearly strong enough to defeat the Urgal, the two men. Enya had heard from stories that humans were stronger then they appeared but still both of them together wouldn't be able to fight off the monster. She got to her feet quietly, It wasn't necessary. Murtagh had rushed at the Urgal but was blocked with the loud grate of steel. They didn't even notice her brake off a thick branch.

She swung hard and connected with the side of the Urgal's skull.

The creature staggered once and then fell to the ground, bruises spreading all across its face. She couldn't quite believe what she had just done. Enya had never been a violent person; she hunted not to cuase pain but to contribute to her family and clan.

The two humans stared at her, she dropped the stick, which she held in the hitting position. It landed on the Urgal's chest with a _thuwmph_. Without a word Murtagh walked over to the Urgal to rest a finger on its neck.

"It's not dead, just knocked out. Eragon what do you want to do with it?"Eragon startled out of his reverie, he looked like he had just woken up from a nap. He was shocked to see the Urgal lying on the forest floor. _Had he done magic unwittingly?_ Usually he had to fight to get at that little nodule of magic at the back of his mind but like that first time when he lit that arrow in Yazuac by mistake. But no, Enya stood over its prone body with a branch in her hand with a shocked expression on her face. Then it hit him that he hadn't done anything, it was their giantess guide who had stopped his attack. It took him a moment to register what Murtagh had said.

"We have to get rid of it; we can't risk it going back to its master." Murtagh just nodded, with a grim little grin plastered on his mouth. He motioned for Enya to help him move the body. She grabbed its arms and pulled; not only was it large but also dense with muscle; it weighed nearly as much as a horse. Together they dragged into the brush and brambles. Then Murtagh did something she wasn't expecting; he pulled out his sword and stabbed the creature deep in the chest. Blood flooded out of its chest like water from a broken dam, staining its rough leather clothes and dripping into the twigs.

She was stunned, never before had she seen a creature killed out of cold blood and with such a calm face. This was not the hunting for food or the mercy killing of an animal that was too injured; this was murder. She looked away, upset with the bloodshed. But it was necessary and they had to keep moving if they were going to make anymore headway before the sunset. So she bit back her regret and followed Murtagh. He stopped her and said.

"This Is what I meant, there are people who want us dead and if you're with us you will be caught up in it all; just so you know what you're risking." She looked at him right in the eye solemnly and shrugged in her way.

"I said I would help you," She brushed past him back to the path they were following. Murtagh walked back, his muscles burned from carrying the scout even though Enya had taken most of the weight. The forest was eerily quiet after the fight the birds had flew away of hid in the trees waiting for safety, all the ground animals had frozen in fear or now waited in their dens. No one knew what to say so, the easy if a bit halting conversation had stopped and they couldn't pick up where they left off. So, they carried on in silence, the trial was nearly as wide as a city walkway, the dirt and plants beaten away by many feet over the years. The horses plodded along easily, Eragon was getting agitated at the slow pace, after so long traveling at a brake neck pace it was odd to not bounce hard in the saddle or urge his steed past its limit.

It was the second night they spent together. After the attack they had traveled straight through 'til night fall. They ate the left over stew from the morning, She was amazed at how much they could eat, accounting for their slight frames. But there they sat, sprawled around the campfire, eating and refilling their bowls until there was nothing left. None of them said much they were all deep in their own thoughts.

It was just then that Eragon looked over at her, "Enya how old are you?" He asked.

"How old? I have spent four- ten years at spring."

"You're only fourteen?" He exchanged a glance with Murtagh.

"Four-ten, ta."

"I thought you'd be older."

"Why…you say that?"

"Well…it's just, that you look older," he shrugged.

"It's the height that does it" Murtagh drawled, he leaned against Saphira his eyes closed. Enya had thought he had gone to sleep.

"I'm not 'dat tall, for a gee-ant I'm still small and growing," To Enya her lack of height was a source of frustration. So it was surprising and gratifying to hear about how tall she was. Of course it didn't mean much coming from human's who were so small compared to her that she must've seemed well…giant. Eragon perked up, his curiosity piqued, not that it took much to do that.

"How tall can giants grow?"

"Seventeen kein is tallest we grow," she said absently spooning for leftover stew into her blow, chewing each grain individually.

"Alright, what's kein?" Asked Eragon, growing more excited with each question; Eragon almost never got to ask so many questions at one time. Enya did something odd just then; she set down her bowl and took off her boot. Tapping her foot she repeated the word 'kein'.

"So… if kein is foot, then giant's can grow up to seventeen feet? How is it possible that no one's noticed, you're not exactly hard to miss," Eragon wondered aloud. The sounds of Murtagh's snoring add to the night time noise

Enya shrugged in her fashion, "you don't look up?" she guessed. Her eyes were getting itchy with sleepiness, the food rested heavily in her stomach. She was finding it very hard to keep up with the conversation. She thought she heard Eragon laugh before crawling into her blankets.

**_Why hello 'dar! Been awhile hasn't it? There's a bit more action in this chapter, just like I promised. not much else to say, there's more of Enya's language and culture in here which is alway's fun to write. Odd little fact the word for boy(tako) in was taken from the japanese word for octopus. the other tranlastions are below. Oh, I forgot, ya know in some languages there's feminine and masculine? well in the giant language they kinda have that. Certain letters are considered feminine while others are masculine_**

An Enya, Naidzeilin ay pen Shrtraden, An o nena, ceolhar epn sinacro quilza =

I am Enya, a giant of the Shrtraden, I am a girl, still not fully grown (meaning he hasn't passed all the rites of passage, she deliberately left out which passage she hasn't passed is the custom.)

Ta=yes

Ni-no

Tako=boy

Nena=girl

Naidzeilin= the giant's in general


	5. Chapter 5

She the mud under her feet squished under her toes, causing her to slide back into the mud. She desperately grabbed at roots poking through the bank to pull her up with. They snapped and she fell back into the current with a yelp. Two strong hands caught her and pulled her back onto the bank; dragging her through the mud as they pulled.

"Thank you, Dunjok," exclaimed a tall giantess with dark curly hair. She shook her damp curls out of her face and stepped on to the bluff. She joined the two giants on the faint animal trail. They hadn't been traveling for long, a day or three; the time flew for their urgency. Dunjok had found the young giantesses camp abandoned; this in itself was not cuase for alarm but what was that no one could account for her location. So they set out to search for the lost girl hoping to find her well. They were moving quickly along the path, they had packed light and they knew these trails better than most people knew their own hands. It wasn't long before they started to catch up on the girl. It appeared as though she was tracking a pair of horses but all the evidence confused them; this only made them move faster.

Enya felt something flicker at the back her mind, the feeling of being followed. She stopped and turned, casting her eye over her surroundings, however it was not her eyes that were most helpful, she heard the tell tale of giants walking quickly. It was only a moment before three giants appeared from out of the trees. They stared past Enya at the two human's on the horses looking thoroughly confused and slightly apprehensive. One of them, a damp-looking giantess called out to her. She answered back, ignoring the curious looks from Eragon and Murtagh. After initially holding back the other giant's approached Enya. The one on the left-a young skinny male- burst into animated chatter, asking questions faster then she could answer them. They talked for a while; Enya had the look of someone caught in an uncomfortable situation. Eragon saw what she meant when Enya said that she was short for a giant. The three others towered over her, all of them looking rather menacing, especially the soggy giantess.

Murtagh and Eragon weren't exactly sure what happened but they must've come to some agreement. The Giants nodded in agreement, they said something to her in farewell before leaving somewhat reluctantly. The skinny, darker skinned giant stopped halfway back into the trees. He stared back and forth between the human's and Enya distress etched on his face. After hesitating for a long moment he strode back to Enya, He embraced her tightly so that she was lifted from the ground. He held her at arm's length, like a mother examining her child. He said something to her- his face serious except for the smile in his eyes. The giant stared directly at Eragon and Murtagh. Drawing himself up to his full and intimidating height he jabbed a finger at them and growled something in his language. Murtagh had the distinct impression that he had just been threatened.

Eragon wasn't sure what had happened, he had been too busy examining the giant's faces; comparing their features to Enya. All the differences he noticed in Enya were amplified in the giants. The lines of the face were much sharper than that of a human. The heavy brows were at odds with their wide eyes and sharp jaw lines reminded him of watchful animals. They moved differently too; with a careful and unconscious grace; He envied their ability to navigate their size so easily (he was at a stage in his life were his body seemed rather disproportionate and uncooperative). He glanced back at Enya and was surprised to find her looking at him impatiently her arms crossed and her head tilted.

"Come on Eragon, we have to keep going, we're wasting too much time," Called Murtagh from down the path, Eragon hurried to spur on his horse to catch up with Murtagh. Enya had to lengthen her pace to outdistance the trotting animals but not by much, she easily led them down the slope back into the dense mass of evergreen.

Enya picked up on increasingly tense feelings coming from both Eragon and Murtagh. They seemed to be from completely different problems because they did not speak of whatever the problem was, in fact they seemed to be talking less and less each other. She did not bring up the subject for fear of offending either of them and her lack of eloquence in their language and customs. Their intensity increased exponentially over the next few days. Driven onward by the threat at their backs. But Enya could sense fear rolling off Murtagh more thickly then Eragon. Whether it was because he feared more for his life or he had more to worry about she did not now, just that he feared both threats from forward and behind.

She kept her silence on one night she found Murtagh and Eragon arguing over the prone body of Ayra. Saphira lay sprawled out, watching them intently. Eragon sat on

Saphira gnawing on bread. Then the sound of a horn shattered the night. Murtagh Buckled Ayra under a horse deftly before jumping into the saddle. He and Enya took off running down the valley while Eragon and Saphira turned away toward the Urgals.

All Enya knew was running that night. She did not know where the others had gone to, only that they where somewhere overhead. She did not know why getting to the varden was so important or why the Urgals were so intent on chasing them. Only that Arya was gravely ill. She was not nearly as fast as the horse but she knew the terrain much better. Horses were plains and prairies animals; not meant for tangled undergrowth and shifting shale of the mountainous forest. The Naidzeilin had been designed especially for this environment. Enya's instincts and her experiences let her fly over jutting roots and loose rock.

They rushed out of the forest onto and open plain. They saw Saphira and Eragon waiting for them. Murtagh did not slow as they approached them but kept at driving the horses before him. Eragon joined their race stumbling over shale. She did not listen to their words when they spoke to one another. She just ran, she could have easily outstripped either of them with her long legs but she had stayed by Murtagh's side the whole time. This she was quite proud of for she had the tendency leave others behind.

Murtagh swore; startling Enya to attention. "Is there any way out of the mountains from here?" He asked her abruptly, His face knotted with aggravation. She thought through all the different way's he would be able to leave the Boer's. She supposed that if you walked in straight line in any direction he would eventually leave the mountains; the horse would restrain his options as it would be unable to climb the sheer rock faces of the mountains. So really he was left with valleys between them, some of these were only treacherous gulley's or vast and water filled. In this part of range the mountain's packed together. They could only go forward following the paths carved by the giants that led them through a chain of narrow valleys. Or he could go back they way they came.

"Ni, it's a dead end, why do want to go leave? What ab-oo-out 'da varden and Arya?" She asked, concerned for Murtagh. He turned to Eragon; *His next words were deceptively calm, like those of a man concealing terrible passion. "Is there a valley or gorge ahead that I can leave through?"

Apprehensive, Eragon tried to remember if he had seen any breaks in the mountains around them; he had not thought about Murtagh's dilemma for a while. "It's dark," he began evasively, dodging a low branch, "so I might have missed something, but…no."

Murtagh swore explosively and came to an abrupt stop, dragging on the horses' reins until they halted as well." Are you saying that the only place I can go is to the Varden?"

"Yes, but keep running. The Urgals are almost upon us!"

"No!" Said Murtagh angrily. He stabbed finger at Eragon. "I warned you that I wouldn't go to the Varden, but you went ahead and trapped me between a hammer and an anvil! You're the one with the elf's memories. Why didn't you tell me it was dead end?"

Eragon bristled at the barrage and retorted, "All I knew was where we had to go, not what lay in between. Don't blame me for choosing to come."

Murtagh's breath hissed between his teeth as he furiously spun away. All Eragon could see of him was a motionless, bowed figure. His own shoulders were tense, and a vein throbbed on the side of his neck. * Enya watched mutely, confused and frightened at the whole situation. She couldn't understand what was so important that they had to stop and discuss it. She tried to pick out their words and listen for the approaching Urgals at the same time but it was impossible to do both. Instead she watched the two men intently and listened to the surrounding forest.*He put his hands on his hips, his impatience rising.

_Why have you stopped? _Asked Saphira, alarmed.

_Don't distract me._ "What's your quarrel with the Varden? It can't be so terrible that you must keep it hidden even now. Would you rather fight the Kull than reveal it? How many times will we go through this before you trust me?"

There was a long silence.

_The Urgals!_ Reminded Saphira urgently.

_I know,_ said Eragon, Pushing back his temper._ But we have to resolve this._

_Quickly, quickly._

"Murtagh," Said Eragon earnestly, "unless you wish to die, we must go to the Varden. Don't let me walk into their arms without knowing how they will react to you. It's going to be dangerous enough without unnecessary surprises."

Finally Murtagh turned to Eragon. His breathing was and fast like that of a cornered wolf. He paused, then said with a tortured voice, "you have right to know. I…I am the son of Morzan, First and last of the Forsworn."*

Enya was becoming extremely agitated; there were strange creatures chasing them and all they could do was prattle. She was about to drag them off herself when suddenly Murtagh fell silent. She'd only been half listening at the time but she thought he said something about his father. She saw Eragon gape at him and knew that something was…off. Enya watched the gears in Eragon's brain working just before he spoke. She couldn't help but stare when Murtagh tore off his shift to reveal a thick twisting scar that stretched from his right shoulder to the opposite hip along his back. She stared; the strip of broken flesh shone dully in starlight. Quietly, as if not by her will she asked him, "What happened?" She listened in rapt attention as he spoke in low urgent tones. Slowly the story of Murtagh's life came together. His father, his _Toulo _had lain open his back when he was only a child.

A horn sounded somewhere in the night and they fled. The pace was achingly slow For Enya, but she restrains herself the best she can and matches her pace to the humans. And for the sake of all that's good they're _still _talking. Don't they know that there are when you just shut your mouth and go? Finally they came to the lake, the Urgals flooded on the shore to encircle them. Then Murtagh shouts and runs towards the hordes slashing with his sword; she and Eragon followed. Enya had no sword; she had never had need of one before now all she had was a hunting knife. But she was taller and a strong as a Kull, she shoved and slashed her way through the Urgals. Terror had sharpened Enya's senses she smelt the strange sort of bloodlust that rolled off the creatures and even her own fear. Every detail was etched in wavering silver. Instead of allowing easier vision it disoriented her. Most of all she was aware of Saphira battling if not for the circumstances she would've stopped and stared at the spectacle.

Saphira leapt out of the lake, There was an onslaught of black arrows shot from the Urgals. Saphira roared in pain, slashing out with her talons at the opposing force. Then just as quickly she plunged back into Kóstha-mérna. She plunged in and out, taking the brunt of the attack. She had managed to hold off the Urgals on the other side of the lake. Eragon was lagging, struggling over the slippery rocks. Enya too was having some trouble but less so. She grabbed his arm and half dragged him to the waterfall. Over the competing roars of the waterfall and Saphira Murtagh and Eragon shouted to one another. Eragon picked up a stone, banging it against the cliff shouted ing the Letrakui-rivoulk. "Aí varden abr du shur'tugalar gata vanta!"

The horses were first to know of trouble; she whirled to see an Urgal charging them. It was the strangest thing, she felt as if she had been frozen, unable to move to defend herself. Her hands stuck out in front of her like she was statue. She tried to move, to breath but nothing came; The Urgal was headed to attack her but she could do nothing, like a deer waiting for death. Then Murtagh lashed out. Faster she would have imagined he stabbed into the creature's chest. It toppled backwards at her feet. She stared at him gratefully, a little stunned by his reflexes.

Eragon was shouting again, this time though something happened, twenty Urgals fell clutching at their broken legs. Arrows flew at them, bouncing off Saphira's scales.

*"What now?" shouted Murtagh. There was still no opening in the cliff. "We can't stay here!"

Eragon heard Saphira snarl as an arrow caught the edge of her wing, tearing the thin membrane. He looked around wildly, trying to understand why Arya's instructions had not worked. "I don't know! This is where we're supposed to be!"

"Why don't you ask the elf to make sure?"Demanded Murtagh. He dropped his sword, snatched his bow from Tornac's saddlebags, and with a swift motion loosed an arrow from between the spike on Saphira's back. A moment later an Urgal toppled into the water.

"Now? She's barley alive! How's she going to find toe energy to say anything?"

"I don't _know_," shouted Murtagh, "but you'd better think of _something _because we can't stave off an entire army!"

_Eragon,_ growled Saphira urgently

_What!_

_We're on the wrong side of the lake! I've seen Arya's Memories through you, and I just realized that this isn't the right place. _She tucked her head against her breast as another flight of arrows sped towards them. Her tail flicked in pain as they struck her. _I can't keep this up! They're tearing me to pieces!*_

Suddenly Eragon slammed his sword into the sheath. He and Murtagh spoke in rapid English. Strapping Arya to Saphira's back. Then she watched in shock, the horses jumped into the eater. Then Murtagh, before she could wonder why they were fleeing in suck an inefficient she felt herself being shoved towards the crashing water. She flailed for a moment before slipping off the rocks and landing face first into the water.

_**AN: This took far longer then it should've. Passages marked with a * are taken from the book. **_


	6. Chapter 6

Water thundered down on her head, pushing her back into the depths. Blindly she clawed to what she thought was deeper into the lake, away from the water fall. Something solid brushed her; She struck out and grabbed at it. It was warm and soft; Eragon. She tugged him away from the waterfall. If she wasn't strong enough to escape it, surely he was not. He struggled out of her grip and she couldn't find him, lashing out each way. Her lungs and limbs burned, twisting her way she broke the surface.

Swimming doggedly she reached the shore clambering the rocks. She was greeted by many shocked warriors; of the human variety and of the stocky dwarves of the mountains. Several of the soldiers jumped back at the sight of the giantess pointing the swords and spears at her. She stared around for any sign of Eragon or Murtagh. Eragon was being dragged out of the water, spluttering profusely, by a fierce some dwarf. Her heart lurched, Murtagh was being held some ways away by a tall bald man. His head yanked back by the hair to expose his neck where a dagger was placed. What was more concerning was look on the face of the bald man holding Murtagh. Surprise was prevalent but there was a cold calculating edge to his features. Enya could almost see the man scheming.

Her staggering forward to save him was halted at the forest of hostile blades aimed at her. Several of the soldiers surrounded her. They led her to stand nearer Eragon. She stood awkwardly; overly aware of the blatant stares of the warriors. At first she tried to wave them away, to reason with them. She was stuck between them, one human lunged at her. She jumped back from the blade. She couldn't understand why these warriors were so hostile. Eragon was to be their hero and even if Murtagh was the son of some enemy, he was Eragon's friend first and to be respected. In the Naidzeilin clan's traveling with a Dragon as a companion would earn you a feast in your honour, the greatest respect and nearly anything you desired. She looked for a way out of her captors ring when the dwarf who rescued Eragon shouted orders to the warriors to lower their weapons.

"Enya!" Eragon said to her urgently; not taking his eyes off Murtagh. "Stay close, and do as I say, alright?"

"Dzutas, ta Eragon," she whispered back, also staring at the man with purple and gold robes. The bald man walked backwards as to keep his eyes on Eragon. The dwarf who had rescued Eragon walked near them. As curious as she was about the strange bearded man she was afraid.

When the door closed the only light was of the flickering torches and flameless lanterns casting bloody light over the damp and glistening walls. The bald man snapped something before disappearing. Enya followed after Eragon, dodging stalactites as she went. There was some unfounded worry gnawing at the back of her mind as if there was something that she be done, and quickly. In her state of tension she noticed the tunnel fade from rough cave into finely sculpted stone.

The room they entered was made of white marble, guarded by Mardskölir, the fiercely protective quilled creature that would roll in rotted meat to more effectively kill intruders. So distracted was she that she didn't even notice how low the ceiling was becoming. With a solid crack her head hit the marble header.

"Ah! Oooow," eyes crossed and watering she stumbled into the marble room. One of the warriors noticed and smiled tentatively at her as if he wasn't sure if it was safe to laugh at her. Eragon on the other hand seemed completely distracted by the situation. His eyes darted nervously from Saphira to the bald man. Her vague worrying over something forgotten suddenly became clear. It was Arya, who had been strapped to Saphira's belly for who knew how long quietly wasting away. She too began to look around nervously. She'd speak if she thought it would help, but gibbering at not-quite-allies who were quite mistrustful of them and also quite armed with sharp weapons and nearly as likely to stab them as protect them from Eragon's and Murtagh's enemies.

The booming of the door closing made Enya jump and nearly hit her head again. It was a very strange room; she'd never been in anyone like it. The Naidzeilin used many different kinds of homes, depending on the area they lived in. Clans a little to the west often lived in caves or stone shelves or in some cases smaller versions of Farthen Dûr. But clans that live near the lakes and rivers like the Shrtraden used the plates of sedimentary rocks like shale and slate. But nothing like the veined marble had ever been used in making homes. She barely noticed Eragon trying to speak to the bald man. It took her an unusually long time to be drawn back from the world of worry and wondered. The bald man spoke quickly and harshly to them. With her aching head she couldn't understand a word he said

*"Remove your weapons and slide them to me," she stared at him blankly, watching the others for hints at what to do. With some horror she watched as Eragon and Murtagh gave up their weapons. How could they trust these people?

Murtagh's back and neck ached from being held for so long in such an awkward position. Anger burned away at his insides, at himself for allowing himself to be caught but also at the circumstances themselves. Without any outlet to release his anger available he sat and stewed in his anger and glared at any soldier's unfortunate enough to catch his attention. He watched with contempt as Eragon removed his weapons while his own were removed. Enya eyes darted back and forth, looking nervous and confused she shifted from foot to foot.

"Remove your weapons!" He barked at Enya startling her. She took out her knife and looked at it wonderingly then back at him. It the bald man's consent a soldier approached her, sword drawn to take the weapon and force the giantess to submit. As he approached Enya backed up until she back into a wall.

"Ah! What?" She stared down at the soldier then back at the

"You idiot! Can't you see that she doesn't understand? Enya!" He called to get her attention then gestured at the knife with a jerk of his head." Give it to him," She looked back at the knife. He also gained the notice of the bald man and everyone else in the room.

"Give? " Reluctantly she passed the knife to the soldier.

Enya Watched the men argue dispassionately convinced that they talking about Arya. She felt tired and uneasy about the soldiers who Murtagh and Eragon had thought to trust. _Why did I think this would be a Good Idea? Leaving home on a whim…_ But she knew why she agreed to lead them to the Varden. She wanted adventure, which seemed like a selfish reason to leave on its own; but she also felt some strange sense of obligation. Which she could not yet quantify save for the pitying of poor travelers and the sick. Back home the term 'Good Ideas' meant for someone to do something dangerous or strange that no one had explanation for, even the doer, who their afterwards said it seem ed like a good idea. Enya had not had one before; she wondered if they too felt a vague sort of pull.

She watched as the bald man sifted through Eragon's mind. His whole body was taught; he looked as though he was enduring some terrible pain. The process seemed to take several minutes before the pain receded from his face. Eragon looked as though he had a severe bought of the flu. She caught him just before he hit the floor before laying him down gently.

"Ah, Eragon what did he do? Are you go to be well?" She asked.

"Yes, I'll be fine," He answered weakly. For the most part she ignored the dwarf and bald man arguing behind them. She pulled Eragon into a sitting position against a wall. But when she heard the bald man declare that Eragon was not an enemy with such reluctance she felt her anger with these so-called allies boil over. Mustering her prowess at the human language she stood up straight and turned to look directly at the objects of her anger.

"Of course he is not your enemy! Why would 'sey come so far from 'deir homes to fight with you and be chased by others? 'dey say 'dat you can heal Arya, Why you not do that now! She almost dead!" The soldiers stared at the angry giantess towering over them as she bore down on their leader. Before now they had barely taken notice of her; a testament to both the extraordinary appearance of a rider which tended to over shadow nearly every other event occurring in the vicinity and her skills at avoiding being noticed. But despite the splendour and mystery surrounding the rider and dragon and the Man who defied such a feared sorcerer. One could not help pay heed to angry woman twice one's height, especially when she demanded it in such a persuasive manner.

Whatever fear she might have instilled in his warriors the bald man refused to be frightened by anyone, least of all ad over sized little girl. "It is a necessary precaution; the varden cannot become riddled with traitors because it is uncomfortable for some. Now, prepare yourself, I'll now test you." The bald man said coldly. She steeled herself for a similar mental assault. She had no idea of what to expect as her mind had never been touched except for her first meeting with Saphira.

It was a strange and painful sensation. As if a tiny claw with needle claws had entered her skull and attempted to assault her cortex only to scratch at wall as slippery as the brain itself. With without a place to gain purchase the claw that was the bald man's probing psyche scrabbled against the mental barrier. The bald man's growing frustration was taken out on her mind by ramming his mind-claw into the mental wall. The wall bent but did not break.

"Lower your barrier!" He shouted with another shove.

"Gah! Huern! Innaesha, Innaesha! I have no barrier." Enya panted. She bent over with her fists in her eyes to block out the spots of light erupting behind her eyes. Technically this was only a half-truth. Enya had never been trained to defend her mind for combat. She had no knowledge of the barrier residing in her brain. This obstruction was the result of her species sharing a habitat with Fanghur. Between the three top predators of the Beors; the Shrrg, the Urzhad, and the Fanghur. The Naidzeilin had most to fear from the Fanghur who could attack from above and disable prey with their screaming and minds. To defend themselves from the mental attack her species developed a protective barrier. Other creatures especially those that fell prey to the Fanghur had developed similar barriers. Neither the Shrrg nor the Urzhad had developed this; both were too large for the Fanghur to attack easily.

"you lie! How else could you stop it?" He spat.

"I not know; I have no barrier…swear," Enya sank down next to Eragon, blinking away the spots. While Eragon and Enya drifted from their painful, but fading haze, Orik and the Egraz Carn argued about what do this most unusual group and the fact that Murtagh was now refusing to let the bald one interrogate him. She was only brought out of her haze when the bald man barked and order to his warriors who thereafter filed out of the room. She lifted he heavy head to look at him.

"Because I was unable to complete my examination, you and… your friends will remain here for the night. They will be killed if they attempt to leave." Both he and Orik left. Enya slumped back against the highly polished wall and promptly fell asleep.


End file.
